Back to Reality
by J. Random Lurker
Summary: Why did Zim melt into data and vanish one morning? Dib's reality is falling apart at the seams... Will eventually be ZADF, multi-chapter. Chapter Two up: what the heck is up with Professor Membrane?
1. Rapid Eye Movement

**Back to Reality   
a shameless 'homage' fanfic   
by J. Random Lurker**

Ironically, it was Zim that gave Dib the first clues something was wrong.

They slumped side by side on the couch in Zim's living room, gasping for breath, exhausted. The Irken's tongue dangled from his mouth in a slight sheen of drool ; his proud Irken uniform was smudged. Dib's high-tech black ninja-gear was scratched and smouldering. They didn't look at each other, just stared tiredly at the wire-strung ceiling.

It was a five minute time out to catch their breath. The couch, stinking of spilled orange slushy and recognized by both combatants as being the property of Gir, was neutral territory.

"Stink... beast." Wheezed Zim, leaning forward and putting his head between trembling knees, breathing in several times rapidly. "You stink even WORSE now!"

Dib rolled his eyes, let his shoulders sink deeper into the bubble-gum pink fabric at his back. "Your fault. Stupid alien... make me work too hard to catch you..."

Zim gave a brittle little laugh. "... So are you sufficiently -ready- now?"

"Oh, geez... two more minutes."

"WEAKLING!" But Zim flopped upright again with a gasp, antennae limp; thin clear beads of Irken sweat on his green brow showing his own weariness. He gave Dib a brief glower, alien eyes searing human. "Fine. Two more 'minutes'. Then I go back to -destroying- you, ready or NOT." In the silence that followed, Zim scowled, murmuring. "You're getting -faster-. I don't LIKE it." The skin around the edges of his luminous red eyes crinkled painfully.

Dib brushed his fingers back through the thinning sheet of spiky hair under his jagged scythe. His breath was finally returning. " ...well, have to be. To keep up with you."

Suddenly the silence felt ackward. Even being seperated, leaning at opposite ends of the couch, was too close together and they both sprang to their feet. Dib's face reddened, Zim's cheeks burned a deeper green. They glared at each other, and with the telepathy only available to soul-mates and sworn enemies, they both knew they were suddenly standing on extremely perilous ground.

And just as Dib was opening his mouth to tell Zim -exactly- how much he hated the Irken's stinking alien guts...

... Zim disappeared.

Except he didn't just disappear. He... dissolved, was the only way Dib could interpret it. Melted into data. A green wire-frame in the shape of Zim was suddenly standing where Zim was, and then the Zim-shape wasn't there, and then there were...

... giant Irken letters, blinking red, and Dib couldn't read them at all, and Zim's house and everything in it suddenly wrenched fifteen feet to the left and then...

... then, there was nothing at all.

---

Dib was enveloped in unending darkness. There wasn't even the faintest speck of light for his eyes to grasp. He panted, frightened, into the void. He tried to call out, to someone, -anyone!- but couldn't hear his own voice. There was nothing for it to echo from.

If there was no sound, that probably meant there was no -air-...

_Oh god I'm dead, am I dead, oh God, I don't wanna be dead -please-..._

He didn't know where he began and ended; he could dimly sense his body, but it felt elongated, far far away like his arms and legs were in a different room than his head and the doors were closed and locked between them. Wheezing he fought his fear.

_Calm down, Dib. Calm -down!- Okay. Obviously I'm breathing. I'm not dead. _

_Concentrate._

There was air moving in and out of his chest. His chest...

_Concentrate!_

He could feel it now... it felt strangely heavy, like a great weight was pressing down on it. Something warm. Like skin. He boggled in confusion, and followed the trail of his nervous system through his chest. Okay, there's the left arm ... where's the right? He tried to move the arm he could feel, and found he couldn't. The muscles twitched, but nothing actually happened.

_This is crazy. I've got a chest and no legs and one arm and I can't MOVE what is going ON!?_

Voices shattered the darkness. High, thin, trilling screeching voices, panicked voices babbling at each other; he couldn't understand them at all. A word or two crept through the screaming that sounded ALMOST familiar; the familiarity ghosted the back of his mind.

He tried to shout back, but found he couldn't speak.

The shouting gave the darkness greater definition. They were close. SO close, inches away! He tried to pull away from them, they were all but screaming in his ears, but he couldn't move.

He was STRAPPED to something...! That's what it was... he was locked into something padded, something HUGE, something that was keeping him completely paralyzed.

Then, at the last, one voice did rise out of the morass of babble with shocking coherency. Although it wasn't speaking English, howling alien words in an unnatural cadence, Dib would have known it anywhere.

Zim's voice, angry as anything, bellowing harsh syllables that felt like knives to the ear. Dib gritted his teeth and commanded his body to MOVE. FIGHT. ANYTHING.

"ZIM!"

His voice suddenly rose out of his throat, a hundred times too loud, too deep, echoing like a gunshot. There was a collective hiss from the overhead voices, and Dib heard Zim screaming something again. Something broke; glass shattering on a metal floor. Something sharp and mean stabbed into Dib's left arm, the arm he could just barely feel.

... then, there was nothing at all.

---

Dib's tiny body jerked sharply under three layers of indigo blankets; he didn't gasp or scream, but his eyes opened and all at once he was -alert-. He sat up ready to fight, but nothing leapt out at him. No Zim, no nothing.

The pillow that had migrated somehow from behind his head to sprawl across the center of his chest slid away and fell soundlessly to the floor. Veiled yellow sunlight filtered into the dim room through small porthole windows near the roof. The row of computers at his desk whirred away pleasantly. A window at the corner of the central monitor gleamed in clean red letters he could read even without his glasses. Saturday, 10 AM.

There was a sour, dry taste in his mouth, but that was there every morning; he tended to sleep with his mouth open, and snore heavily. His scythe, damp with night-sweat, hung limp between his eyes. Dib pushed it back into place.

_Oh man. Just a dream._

He kicked back the covers and glanced at the fallen pillow for a moment. It made sense, perfect sense. Everything fit. The smothered feeling, the inability to move; he'd read about these, about how the muscles of the body locked up in sleep. He must have had a moment of semi-lucid dreaming, maybe during the transition into REM sleep. Maybe he'd started to wake a little, but not enough to kick his brain back into full control, and in the confusion his admittedly overactive imagination ran away with him.

_Sure._

Or maybe Zim was using one of those rotten nightmare-inducers again...! Dib felt around the bed and patted down the nearest walls, but no concealed shapes, microphones, or alien devices made themselves apparent, either in or around the mattress, or behind the posters. Fine. He could spot-check the walls outside after breakfast. One of a number of small but increasing and urgently necessary daily rituals. When you lived in a state of war, eternal vigilance was required to keep up with the enemy.

Didn't mean he didn't resent Zim for forcing him to be eternally vigilant. "Stupid alien."

He picked up the fallen pillow and tossed it back to the bed, then put his feet on the ground and started pulling on his favorite clothes: Blue t-shirt, black jeans, black boots, and over these his signature nylon trench coat.

Dressed, he started for the hallway, then paused in alarm and sniffed the air.

It smelled like waffles.

---

Dib had used to like waffles, until that unfortunate day he'd planted the spy camera in Zim's house, and had watched the alien forcefeed plate after plate of the things to a captured human. After that, the very NOTION of waffles made Dib's guts turn sour.

Panic scenarios flickered through his head as he picked up speed and leapt down the stairs to the main floor. What if ZIM was down there? Or.. even worse, KEEF? Dib ran like his life was in danger until he skidded to a stop, panting wildly, at the kitchen doorway.

He was braced for the worst, for Gir at the counter and Zim at the table smirking that unforgivable knowitall superior SMIRK and the steaming plate of waffles full of... cheese, or whatever...

He was NOT prepared to see his father standing at the stove, tall and cheerful in his crisp white labcoat and aquamarine goggles.

"Ah, Dib! Good morning! Have a seat, they're almost ready!"

Dib deflated. "... Dad?"

------ _  
Muahahahahaha! More to come. _

_jrandomlurker(at)yahoo.com_


	2. A Normal Breakfast? HERE?

_Since when do you COOK BREAKFAST?_ Dib wanted to shriek, as he ackwardly climbed, one tiny leg kicking at the air, into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. _You NEVER cook! NOBODY cooks around here! And why WAFFLES instead of toast, huh? Huh? _

He sat with his mouth gaping, stupefied by the sight before him; the freshly washed plates, the silverware neatly arranged to either side, the containers of milk and juice on the table next to the heaping plate of waffles which contained no soap or cheese or bacon but simply waffle batter. Part of his mind was shrieking with fear. This amount of NORMAL was so ABNORMAL to what he knew that it was terrifying.

Membrane SAT DOWN AT THE TABLE, and Dib's mind almost exploded.

Somehow he managed to summon his voice. It came out terrified. "D.. don' t you have a meeting to go to or something?" _Why are you HERE?!_

"Oh, there's always meetings, son!" Membrane chirped. "But it would be scientifically unsound of me to ignore the volumes of research that currently exist on child psychology and create a dysfunctional family environment for my precious children!"

Dib's brain began to shriek even LOUDER. _Who are you and what planet did you -come from-?!_ He stammered, "W...what about Gaz?"

A soft hiss of cloth moved past his left shoulder; his little sister's black-coffee-and-cigarettes voice grumbled. "What -about- me?" She rubbed her face, eyes squinted to thin and irritable lines, and climbed into the chair to the left of Dib, making a face. "I'm here already, so let's get this over with."

Gaz was miserable too! That was good. That meant their dad was just on one of his occasional guilt-pangs about not being there EVER, and they could expect that he'd soon disappear from their lives again. Dib relaxed slightly. Okay, it'd been a while since the last time- almost long enough he'd forgotten- but now the world was falling back into something recognizable. Recognizable, and horrible.

Membrane hefted his fork dramatically into the air. It was impossible to see his mouth behind the high collar of his coat, but he fairly radiated smug satisfaction. "Excellent! Let the enjoyment of family waffle breakfast begin!"

_But I don't LIKE waffles any more!_ Dib whined to himself. _If you'd really bothered to KEEP UP WITH US you'd KNOW that...._ He exhaled, settling back in the plastic chair and with great reluctance reached to the stacked plate to pulled one of the horrible breakfast treats in front of him. He kept his eyes low, away from Gaz and his dad's, while applying the obligatory butter and syrup, and ate the smallest bites he could get away with, as quietly as he could. Gaz was making it a point to be as noisy as possible, chewing gracelessly, clacking her silverware with I-don't-care defiance and unnecessary force against her plate.

Dib supposed it figured, really... even when something potentially -good- happened, it was still something that was going to make him COMPLETELY MISERABLE. That was just typical, wasn't it.

He picked up one of the clean glass cups and poured juice into it, then drank. But as he was setting the cup down something very strange happened; there was something ... odd about the way the shadows played inside the empty glass. It almost looked... he narrowed his gaze, frowning... like rainbows. Not the normal refraction of light, but like broken shards of color in regular rows... like the patterns he'd see when he used to sit too close to the television...

...like pixels.

Dib frowned, and turned the glass forward; the effect disappeared. He tipped the glass forward again, peering down its empty, juice-slick insides; there they were again. But only when he held it right to his lips and looked inside...

_Wha...? Maybe it was a trick of the light or something...?_

It was a comfortable, easy thing to believe- but Dib had never believed in comfortable, easy things. His morning dream came flooding back to his mind: Zim had turned into some kind of -program-...

Membrane chose exactly the wrong moment to speak. "How are the waffles, kids?"

Dib's attention was jerked away from the glass, and when he looked at it again it was just a normal glass, with light playing through it in exactly the normal way. He set it down and pushed it away, scowling. Gaz grunted something around her full mouth.

Dib had eaten very little, and looked up at his father as he set the fork down. "Actually, Dad... I'm kinda... not feeling very good this morning. I think I'll just go upstairs and lay down for a while." He gave a cringing 'please don't kill me' smile to both of them.

Gaz shot Dib the DIRTIEST look- _you're SO gonna wish I had thought of that first!_- but followed her elder brother's lead, "Yeah... I'm pretty full now. Good job, Dad." Then she one-upped Dib by actually just getting up and LEAVING.

Membrane exhaled as Dib's chair screeched backward over the linoleum. "Just a moment, son. I'd like to talk to you about something important, if I may."

_Here it comes,_ thought Dib miserably. _Another hour-long lecture about giving up paranormal studies and going into 'real science' to be the clone of you you always wanted. This was all just a setup for that, wasn't it?_ He couldn't argue, only obey- so he sat, and braced for impact, but his mind was still churning. _I already TRIED it! It's not who I AM!_

"I'm realizing it's been a while since I last updated your glasses," Membrane began, " And I'm quite concerned that you may not be seeing things correctly. Clear vision is vital to success in every aspect of life! So please, come with me, son. I'd like to correct this now while I still have a few moments."

_Huh?_ Dib hadn't expected THAT at all. He raised his head and blinked up at his father, at the older man's calm, earnest words. "Uhm... sure."

---

Dib sat on the edge of a workbench in his father's basement lab, kicking his feet nervously in the air while he waited.

_Should I tell him about the weird thing I saw in the glass upstairs?_

Maybe this was the explanation, though. Maybe his glasses -were- starting to fritz. He HAD been noticing fuzziness creeping in around the edges of things, now that his attention was drawn to HOW he was seeing as opposed to WHAT he was seeing. Now that he thought about it, yeah. Objects distant weren't quite as sharp as they had been.

Funny thing about seeing, he thought. You just don't notice as it slowly gets worse and worse, because your brain adapts to the change. And it happens so slowly, subtly failing day by day, you can't even remember what the world was supposed to look like...

His dad was across the room, pulling down a box of tools from a shelf. Even this simple gesture had a curious tension about it- Professor Membrane just couldn't do anything halfway, telescoping each fluid movement into epic challenges against the universe. His jaw was constantly set, his voice was constantly projecting, always with a barely restrained energy. As if he had to keep himself on a leash for fear of hurting others with the sheer force of his personality. Dib abruptly realized the reason he always felt so incredibly NERVOUS around his father.

Membrane was just as frustrated as he was.

Membrane turned back toward him and approached with a delicate tool in hand. "Now...this should only take a few moments. Close your eyes, son, and try not to panic." Dib braced his hands around the edge of the workbench and, unconsciously, held his breath. His father applied the tool gently around the edge of his left eyeglass-lens until he found a hidden spot at the edge of Dib's skeletal eye-socket. The lens popped free with a soft click. The right lens soon followed, and Membrane turned away again.

Dib opened his eyes, blinked once, and immediately felt them begin to water. They were very weak now, and even the thin, colorless lights above his head were stinging his rods and cones like acid eyedrops. His vision was a hopeless snarl of fuzz and distortions. There were TONS of glitches now- digital static and compression errors in every direction, everywhere he looked a cloud of broken image data. But in the context of the fact that half his visual system had just been removed, Dib didn't think much of it...

Dib's vision- actually, everyone in his family's- was really, really bad. All of them were hopelessly nearsighted, and Professor Membrane had naturally turned to science to provide a solution. Ordinary glasses wouldn't do for small children, he had decided: they were too easily lost, stolen, misplaced or broken. Contacts were dangerous and even soft lenses could potentially damage the cornea- and were far beyond the capacity of small children to place them correctly on a daily basis.

Instead Professor Membrane had devised an entirely new kind of eyewear, which had of course required the invention of an entirely new kind of material to make them out of, and massive advancements in connective neurosurgery and opthamology and optometry to make them WORK, and the end result was this: Dib's vision was digitally enhanced by a combination of specially shaped lenses which were magnetically bonded to his skin, and 'helper' implants wired into his brain intercepted and improved the signals travelling through his optic nerves.

Dib had been three when they were installed, and now that he was older, he'd often wondered if he should have said no, as Gaz had. Two-year old Gaz had resisted having her eyes 'fixed' so violently that Membrane had let her be, and now Gaz was struggling with the consequences- squinting constantly at everything, having a limited radius of clear vision. Back then, though, Dib had been tired of banging himself up tripping over things, and had been soothed by the reassurance that Membrane was himself using the very same system and that it was perfectly safe.

To be fair, it was, and he'd never experienced any problems since. The glasses never needed to be removed, nor cleaned. They never scratched, and rain and similar irritants couldn't enter Dib's eyes due to their shape and close bonding to the skin. They were almost entirely weightless; Dib could sleep in them, shower in them, work all day in them, and never be bothered.

It was just the IDEA that made him squirm- that his brain had been TAMPERED WITH, that he wasn't the owner of his own flesh and blood. If his dad had been willing to put him under massive surgical alteration just to fix his blurry vision, what ELSE would he be willing to do to him 'for his own good'?

It was just one more reason Dib feared his father.

---

_ A/N: Slow chapter, sorry. Mostly setup for later events... more soon!   
jrandomlurker(at)yahoo.com _


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